We say goodbye to the San Blas and sail toward Linton Bay, where we prepare our paperwork for the Panama Canal transit. Soon, we will leave the Atlantic Ocean behind and head for new adventures in the Pacific.
Most people we know hire an agent to handle everything for them. Convenient, yes but it comes at a price of several hundred dollars. The canal transit itself is already expensive enough, so we decide to prepare the entire application ourselves. These days, that’s perfectly possible online.
Because the fees are based on your boat’s dimensions, you need to provide proof: photos, documents, and detailed measurements. Until a few years ago, canal officials would physically measure every boat. It takes us several hours to complete everything correctly, but with success, the confirmation email arrives. All that’s left is payment and then the administration is complete. Once you enter canal waters at Shelter Bay Marina, you must update your status on the website so you can call the scheduling office to request a transit date, provided your payment has been processed.
With everything arranged, we say goodbye to Linton Bay with one last dive in the warm Caribbean waters and a farewell dinner with our friends from Maverick and MaevaIt’s not a final goodbye, though, they’ll be joining us as line handlers during the canal transit. For the locks, you need four people on board, each responsible for one line.
Shelter Bay Marina lies about five to six hours sailing from Linton Bay. We depart in rough seas and soon see the silhouettes of massive cargo ships appear on the horizon. They’re anchored, waiting their turn to transit the canal. To our surprise, dolphins join us. They play around the boat, literally surfing down the steep waves, swimming ahead of our bow and leaping out of the water before starting all over again. A joy to watch.
A few hours later, we enter the breakwater of the canal waters, an enormous structure that shelters the bay and creates calm, wave-free conditions. We turn right toward the marina and, quite literally with the help of the dockmasters, squeeze Blowing Bubbles into an extremely tight slip.
Using the marina shuttle, we go in search of tools for the boat and restock provisions with several supermarket runs. Buying soft drinks and beer is always a workout but the shuttle makes life much easier.
For some relaxation, we explore the jungle surrounding the marina. Within walking distance lies an abandoned military base, reached by a beautiful trail through lush greenery. We enjoy watching coatis searching for worms along the path, tails proudly held high. In the morning, we spot a large family of capuchin monkeys jumping from branch to branch. We occasionally hold our breath as they leap impressive distances but it always ends well. What a stunning jungle walk, so close to the marina.
When Bart, Marian, Jean-Benoît, and Isabelle arrive the evening before departure, we take a final dinner and drink at the restaurant and say a definitive farewell to the Caribbean.
At 2:30 p.m., we are expected at the “flats,” the anchorage where our advisor will board. We arrive early, at 2:00 p.m. and meet the catamaran that will transit the locks with us. They are anchored; we remain drifting nearby. Eventually, at 4:10 p.m., we welcome our advisor on board. He immediately gives us a briefing on the transit and what will be expected of us in the locks.
Jean-Benoît and Bart prepare the long lines, tying large loops in them, while I give instructions on where to hang the fenders. The procedure is as follows: we enter the lock with the other catamaran tied to us. From the lock wall, a monkey fist, a thin line with a knot at the end, is thrown down. This must be attached to our long line using a bowline. The entire setup is then hoisted up and secured to a bollard on top of the lock wall. At our request, the monkey fists are thrown toward the bow to avoid damaging our solar panels at the stern. Then we wait for the cargo ship ahead of us to enter the lock.
A bit of history
For those interested: the idea of the Panama Canal dates back to 1513, when Vasco Núñez de Balboa envisioned a passage between the oceans. Construction first began in 1880 under French leadership, the same company that built the Suez Canal. In 1889, the project was abandoned due to heavy losses from tropical diseases, difficult terrain and financial problems. In 1904, the Americans took over under President Theodore Roosevelt. Ten years later, in 1914, the first ship passed through the 81-kilometer-long canal.
The canal is fed by several artificial lakes, supplied by multiple rivers. Thanks to Panama’s heavy rainfall, this is usually sufficient for lock operations. However, during the dry season of 2023, rainfall was exceptionally low, resulting in limited daily transits and long waiting times. Since then, the situation has stabilized, the most recent rainy season brought unusually heavy rainfall, and water levels are back to normal.
En dat is nodig als je bedenkt dat er 200 miljoen liter water nodig is per transit! Gemiddeld zijn er 36 transits per dag, dat zijn heel wat liters die per dag nodig zijn, maak de rekensom maar!
Once the Baltic Winter passes us, advisor Jaime urges our captain JM to increase speed and follow the buoyed channel toward the lock, keeping a safe distance behind the cargo ship. The other catamaran, Loya Hee, follows us. Just before the lock, we must stop so they can “nest” alongside us. The first attempt fails, it takes too long and a large vessel exits the second lock. We abort the maneuver.
The second attempt is also difficult. The advisor on Loya Hee even starts giving instructions to his captain on how to operate the engines. Fortunately, we have experienced sailors on board who know how to handle dock lines. Then suddenly, the order comes to cast everything off again. Only moments later does it sink in, we release the lines, and the other boat receives the same instruction.
The captain of the Loya Hee is clearly struggling to control his vessel, something the lock master above also notices. He orders a change in procedure. This time, we enter first and go alongside the wall, after which Loya Hee comes alongside us. This avoids having two boats tied together during the locks. We repeat this maneuver three times, rising a total of 26 meters.
As soon as we’re nearly against the wall, the monkey fists come down. One is badly thrown and lands in the water in front of our bow. Luckily, Jean-Benoît quickly retrieves the line and secures it to our long blue rope. A stressful moment avoided. We’re secured, the other boat comes alongside, and the massive lock gates close.
Goodbye, Caribbean Sea.
Once the gates shut, water rushes in from below. It churns violently, trying to pull our boat in every direction. Bart and Jean-Benoît are fully occupied controlling the lines, constantly taking them in as we rise rapidly. JM works hard on the flybridge with both engines. It’s no easy task, especially since the other captain doesn’t always cooperate and sometimes applies opposing engine movements.
Our boat is pushed against the wall but thanks to the thick fenders placed at critical points, she settles gently. Marian stands ready with extra fenders, Isabelle documents everything with her camera and I try to keep the overview and step in where needed. Everything goes well but it’s easy to see how quickly things could go wrong. We later hear that just days earlier, people were injured by heavy lines and even had to be taken to the hospital.
After about three hours, we pass through the three locks. The original plan was to spend the night on a buoy in Gatun Lake but once again, procedures change. We’re instructed to continue another twenty miles. It’s dark by now and we follow the red buoys from light to light. I start cooking, spaghetti for the crew and a salad for advisor Jaime, who eats gluten-free. You really have to be prepared for everything.
At 10:15 p.m., we secure Blowing Bubbles to a large metal buoy. All fenders are bundled in the middle, and the lines are tied around the top. The advisor is picked up by a pilot boat.Time for a drink and a short debrief of the day.
At five in the morning, we’re nearly thrown out of bed by the waves of a passing pilot boat. Everything is holding well, no damage. Falling back asleep is impossible and since we need to be ready by seven, we get up. Seven passes, then eight, then nine… no advisor. JM calls the scheduling office: no one scheduled? Someone only available tonight? We’re told to call back later and are eventually scheduled for late afternoon.
So we spend the entire day on the buoy, watching enormous cargo ships pass by, each one bigger than the last. We hear that the largest ships currently pay $1.3 million per transit, every single time.
At 4:00 p.m., we see a pilot boat approaching. Laurens, our new advisor, steps aboard. We cast off and enter the Culebra Cut, a narrow, one-way channel carved straight through the mountains using explosives.
After an hour and a half, we prepare for the first of three locks on the Pacific side: Pedro Miguel. This time we go through without a buddy boat (no one minds) and share the lock with a large tanker. No more monkey fists , we’re already 26 meters higher. The long blue lines can simply be thrown to the lock workers at the same level.
Despite the strong current, they stroll calmly toward the bollards to secure the lines. Meanwhile, JM keeps the boat perfectly positioned, no small feat under these conditions. The tanker, attached to the characteristic locomotives, enters behind us. It barely fits in the lock and pushes massive volumes of water in our direction. Blowing Bubbles is slammed against the wall and pulled away again but everything remains under control.
We drop seven meters in no time. The line handlers work hard to release the lines in time. After three locks doing the same, we’re back at sea level. At each lock exit, we shoot out at eight knots and JM has to throw both engines into full reverse to slow us down in time. Everything goes smoothly.
Meanwhile, from the other side of the world, I receive a stream of photos from the Miraflores Locks webcam. The cargo ship gradually comes into view. My parents are aboard Jakker in Malaysia and are following our adventure live via the webcam. How cool is that?
At the final lock of the Miraflores Locks, the gates open. The Pacific Ocean lies before us, a huge milestone to reach with your own boat.
The Pacific
One last moment of focus. Lines off and we fly into the night with the outgoing current, heading for the Pacific Ocean. We pass the massive Chinese container port, the Puente de las Américas, the Balboa Yacht Club and then our advisor is picked up. We continue on to the anchorage near La Playita.
Anchor down. Curry on the table. A bottle of bubbles. A splash into the new water tanks. Bart dares me and I go for it.
Welcome to the Pacific.
Mooie samenvatting
Wat een prachtige avonturen beleven jullie
Een adembenemend gebeuren
Gelukkig zijn jullie er goed doorgekomen
Heel veel plezier en genieten van elk moment
Weer mooi verteld, Karen. Wij beleven zo onze tocht een beetje opnieuw 😉 Veel plezier en leuke avonturen in de Pacific en vooral…niet te veel “stukken”. Mama